


Batty Sheila

by magneticdice



Series: Galloween [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:17:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticdice/pseuds/magneticdice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey gets a potion from Sheila after Ian says he's enlisting</p>
            </blockquote>





	Batty Sheila

**Author's Note:**

> so this is another Halloween story, not based during Halloween or anything, but it has a supernatural element. please read it with an open mind because I was nervous about writing it! I'm sure not everyone will like the idea of Sheila being a witch...

**Batty Sheila**

Everyone knew that Karen Jackson's mom was crazy, but Mickey knew that that wasn't how it had always been. In fact, he'd been to that house more than once with his sister Mandy when they were little. Of course, Mandy had been too young, but Mickey remembered...

He remembered sitting in the living room and waiting for his mom and Sheila to come back from the basement. Karen was a little brat and would always pull his sister's hair while they played. Sometimes Mickey would be bored enough to help Mandy fight back, but most of the time he would watch the cartoons Sheila put on for them before leaving with his mom.

It would never take long—usually an hour—and then his mom would take them home with a big smile. Those were the nights she'd cook his dad's favorite meal and watch him eat every single bite before leaving the table. 

On one of those nights, he saw his mom pocket a small glass vial right before calling Terry for dinner.

“Mama, what's that?”

His mom looked down at him and smiled. “It's nothing, baby. Go tell your dad that dinner's ready.” Mickey obeyed her, but after that, he was curious. The next time they went to the Jackson house, he crouched by the basement door and put his ear against it to hear what was going on below.

“Remember, you have to make sure you're the first person he sees after he takes it. Otherwise he'll fall in love with them instead,” Sheila warned. 

“I got it,” his mom said. “Believe me, I'm careful.”

“Good. And if anyone finds out, you know what to tell them?”

“Yeah, but don't worry. If he finds out, the bastard'll kill me before thinking to ask any questions.”

There was a short silence and Mickey heard something bubbling.

“I'm sorry you're in this situation...”

“The hell're you sorry 'bout? You're not the one who made him the way he is... He did that all by himself; him and those stupid drugs.” His mom sounded like she was about to cry but there was nothing Mickey could do to help.

“I just mean that it's terrible. Don't worry; this will help until the next full moon.”

Mickey was scared. He didn't really understand everything he'd heard but he knew his mom was doing something to his dad... but he was just a kid—what could he do to help?

He went back to the living room and was quiet during the entire walk home. While his mom was in the kitchen cooking, he went to her jacket and took the vial out of her pocket. He ran to the bathroom and dumped whatever was in the vial into the toilet. Then he filled the vial up with water from the sink and returned it to his mom's jacket pocket. 

What happened afterwards was a blur.

Dinner went as it always did. His mom sat and watched Terry eat every single crumb of his meal and his dessert, then she put him and Mandy to bed, as usual. Mickey tried his hardest not to sleep. He looked out of the window at the night sky and stared at the full moon until his eyelids got heavy and slid shut.

He woke to the loud crash of breaking glass. His parents were fighting, and from the shouting coming from the living room, Mickey knew that his dad was _pissed_. His mom was begging Terry to stop throwing the bottles at her. Mickey pulled the covers over himself and covered his ears until the screaming stopped. He knew better than to walk out of his room when his dad was like that.

He didn't know how much later it was when Mandy walked into his room.

“Mickey... Mommy's not waking up.”

She pulled him by his sleeve and led him to the living room. Their mom lay sprawled on the floor, partially leaning against the wall. She was covered in bruises and cuts that left trickles of blood from where she'd been cut by small shards of glass. Their dad was passed out drunk on the couch. Mickey went to his mom and shook her shoulder. She didn't react.

“Mom...” he whispered, still shaking her shoulder. “Mom, are you okay?”

Terry was the one to wake up instead.

“Take your sister and get back in your room!” he yelled as he backhanded Mickey.

He dragged Mandy into his bedroom but not before hearing Terry get on the phone and ask whoever was on the other line to “send over a cleaner.”

~ ~ ~

It had been twelve years since his mom had disappeared. Mickey never told anyone what he thought he'd seen; he'd been too afraid of what his dad would do to him. In the beginning, he couldn't even think about it without the guilt tearing him apart. Mandy had been too young to know what was going on, and when she asked Terry where their mom was, he would tell them she'd up and left. Mickey eventually convinced himself that he'd just imagined the whole thing.

~ ~ ~

Gallagher came into his room and told him he was enlisting. He was going to leave... Leave Chicago... Leave _him_.

Mickey was a fucking pussy, just like Mandy said. He couldn't get the words out to stop the boy he loved from walking away. Maybe things would be safer this way? Gallagher would be far away from Terry.

 _...and he'd be off in some dessert getting his head shot off. Yeah,_ that _was much better..._

Mickey had to do something. Gallagher would be gone by the next morning. His chest started to hurt and he closed his eyes to hold back tears. Mickey hadn't cried in years... not since that last night he saw his mom...

It all started slowly coming back to him: waiting in the living room, listening at the door, seeing the glass vial from Sheila, dumping out its contents, his mom's shouts from outside his room, her lifeless body...

Terry had _killed_ her and covered it up. He'd have no problem killing Gallagher too. That was why Mickey had married Svetlana—to _protect_ Ian—although he hadn't been conscious of his decision at the time. His dad had told him what he had to do and Mickey had just done it, as usual, but it all seemed clear now. He knew what had to be done.

~ ~ ~

Mickey banged on the door of the Jackson house until Sheila opened it a crack.

“Frank doesn't live here anymore,” she said before attempting to shut the door.

Mickey stuck his hand out and kept it from closing all the way.

“Ain't here for Frank.”

“Oh. Well, Karen is gone too.” 

Mickey shook his head. “Not here for her either... Listen. I know what you used to do and I need your help.”

Sheila recovered quickly from his accusation and tried to close the door again. “I don't know what you're talking about.” 

Mickey didn't have time for this shit.

“Your fucking drugs got my mom killed,” he said in a low, serious voice. He was fuming, and it came across in his angry whisper. “Now if you don't let me in and help me, I'll tell my dad that you were behind it all. It won't take him long to make sure the same thing that happened to my mom happens to you.”

Sheila's mouth fell open. “That... but... that's not true. Your mom left.”

"Is that what you tell yourself? My dad found out she was poisoning him! I saw it myself.”

“Poisoning?” Sheila frowned. “Oh, honey... No, that's not what we did...” She opened the door, looked around to make sure no one was watching, and pulled Mickey into the house.

She made him sit in the living room while she made hot chocolate. He hadn't asked for it but she had insisted. Once it was ready, she sat across from him and started to explain.

“Your mom came to me, asking for help. She said her husband had started using drugs and that they'd changed him. He'd started drinking and gotten angry... he'd stopped loving her to the point of hurting her and her kids. He was hurting you and your sister, but you were too young to remember. She begged me to make her something to fix him, so that's what I did. I made her a love potion that she gave him once a month. She was able to make him love her enough to forget about the drugs and the alcohol.”

It was a lot to process. Love potions? What was Sheila, some kind of witch? When Mickey didn't respond, Sheila asked him why he was there.

“I need something to stop him... I need to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else. I thought that if I could get the same drug my mom had been giving him, then maybe he'd go back to the way he was before she died...”

“Who has he hurt? Are you okay?” she said, voice full of concern.

“It doesn't matter,” he said, hoping she wouldn't question him further. “I just need him dealt with.”

“You want to kill him?” Sheila asked, horrified.

“No! Just...” Mickey thought fast. If what Sheila said was true, then maybe she _could_ help him. “I need you to make me something I can give him to make him less... violent.”

“Oh... But... I don't do that anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I stopped practicing years ago. It's too dangerous; it just brings trouble. Trouble and more trouble. Nothing is safe...”

No wonder they called her Batty Sheila. Mickey had been just as curious as everyone else in their neighborhood was about what had caused Sheila to become agoraphobic. There were so many different rumors...

“Did something go wrong? Is that why you stopped leaving the house?”

“I always told them the rules. Always. They knew not to tell anyone where they got their potions from. I was too trusting.”

“What happened?” Mickey didn't realize he was on the edge of his seat in anticipation of her next words.

Sheila hesitated but obviously decided Mickey needed to hear the story. “A young woman and her husband were having trouble conceiving and she came to me for help, so I gave her something that would make her more fertile. It worked, and she came to thank me and tell me that she and her husband were finally expecting a baby girl. Months later, I was leaving the grocery store when her husband attacked me. It turned out that his wife had died during labor, and she must have told him about me at some point, because he blamed me for her death. He took me into the alleyway behind the store and beat me. I thought I was dead. It was hours before anyone found me. When I got home from the hospital, I decided to stop. I haven't used any magic since.”

She was crying. Mickey hated seeing people cry. He never knew what to do to help.

He decided to be forceful instead of coddling her. “Well, you're gonna have to suck it up and start again. My dad is just like that guy, except he wouldn't have stopped until he was sure you were dead. Give me something I can use on him.”

It took a lot of convincing and even a few more threats, but Sheila eventually agreed to make Mickey what he needed. She said the potion would require Mickey's blood and would only work for a few minutes after it was ingested, so Mickey would have to work quickly if he wanted his commands to stick.

He left Batty Sheila's house with his own small glass vial and a plan. Mickey waited until later that night when his dad got home and demanded Mandy bring him a beer.

“I got this,” Mickey said, grabbing two cold beers from the fridge and taking them to the couch in the living room where his father sat in nothing but his boxers, one hand scratching his chest and the other adjusting his balls as he shifted to accept the beer.

Mickey sat next to him and watched him down the contents of the bottle into which he'd poured Sheila's potion. 

“This shit is stale,” his father said, belching.

“Oh? Mine's fine. Here.” Mickey handing him his beer and watched his dad chase the first one with Mickey's.

He leaned forward and looked into his dad's eyes.

“Dad. I'm gay, but you don't care. You don't hate fags, in fact, you might be one yourself. You should experiment a little.” Mickey chuckled to himself and then continued with what he'd planned to say. “You never saw me 'n Gallagher together. You never called the Russian. I never got married. If you ever see me again with a dude, you're gonna walk away and forget you ever saw anything. If you ever try to hurt anyone ever again, in _any_ way, you'll regret it, because from now on, every time you try to cause pain, you'll get the sudden urge to...” he said the first thing that came to his mind, “...undress yourself instead, even in public. Most importantly, in about five minutes, you're going to wake up and forget this conversation happened, but you'll still follow all the orders I gave you. Understood?”

His father nodded.

“Good. Now go to sleep. You're tired. Oh, and you don't like this house anymore. You want to move out of state.”

His dad nodded again and lied back on the couch. His eyes shut instantly and he started snoring.

Mickey got up and walked to his room, grinning. Mandy was there waiting for him.

“Mickey, what the fuck? Did you just tell dad you're gay?”

“He already knew,” Mickey shrugged.

“Is that why he made you marry Svetlana?” Mandy asked, eyes wide.

“Yep. Told me that if I didn't, he'd kill Gallagher.”

“So she's not really pregnant?”

Mickey frowned. “I don't know if she is or isn't, but odds are, it isn't mine. I guess we'll see what happens in a few months. Now can you get the fuck out of my room?”

Mandy nodded and left.

Mickey looked around for his scarf and found it on the floor next to his boots. How convenient...

He got dressed and walked over to the Gallagher house. He didn't ring the bell or knock; he just sat on the front stairs and waited, cigarette in hand.

One of the Gallaghers must have seen him there because Ian came out eventually. Mickey tried not to think about how they'd known he was there to see Ian. He was nervous enough as it was.

Mickey didn't look up at him. He'd known it was Firecrotch just from the smell of his body wash. 

“What are you doing here?” Ian asked. He was still acting all tough and detached. Mickey could hear it in his voice.

He just continued staring ahead at the dark street, the shitty cars parked everywhere, the crappy houses that lined the block. Instead of answering Ian, Mickey took out another cigarette. He'd started a little pile of them on the stairs in the hour or so he'd been sitting there.

“Mickey, I don't have time for this shit.”

“Will you just sit down and shut up for once?” Mickey said, exasperated. “Jesus...”

Gallagher sat on the step but kept a distance between them. Mickey offered him a cigarette. Ian was never one to refuse; it was a South Side thing.

No amount of mental planning could help him get the courage to tell Gallagher how he felt. He just needed to man up and do it. 

“I'm not gonna try to convince you to stay. I know this is what you've always wanted to do. I just came here to tell you that my dad's been taken care of and you won't have to worry about him hurting you or your family ~~if~~ when you get back.” 

“Did you kill him?” the redhead asked.

“No, I didn't kill him!” Mickey said heatedly. He looked at Ian quickly and then turned away again. Did he really come across as the type of person who'd kill his own dad? “Why does everyone keep thinking that?” 

“Everyone?” Gallagher raised an eyebrow. “Maybe it's cuz he's an abusive asshole who deserves to die?”

Mickey had no idea how to explain any of it to Gallagher. He doubted the redhead would believe him even if he tried. 

“Yeah, maybe he does,” he conceded. 

Ian laughed and the ache Mickey had been feeling ever since the redhead had walked out of his room seemed to lessen a tiny bit at hearing the sound. A few minutes passed. Mickey lit another cigarette and offered his last one to Ian.

“Mickey, why are you here?”

“I told you, I came to tell you my dad's out of the picture.” 

“Yeah, but why?”

Mickey didn't get where Gallagher was going with this. “Why what?

“Why does it matter?”

“Because he can't hurt us anymore.”

“Us?”

“Us. You. Whatever.”

“Why?”

“Gallagher, if you ask me why one more time without being specific I'm gonna punch you.” 

Ian laughed again. Mickey would never tire of hearing that, and if this was the last time he and Gallagher talked,  he wanted to commit it to memory.

“I just want to understand why you're here and what you think telling me that is going to accomplish.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that nothing's changed. You're still married. You chose that whore and her baby over me. You won't admit to anything...”

Mickey wanted to tell Gallagher everything. He wanted to tell him that he was planning to get the marriage annulled and that he'd decided to let Svetlana stay until she had the baby on the off chance that it was actually his, even though it was highly unlikely. They'd have the extra space with Terry gone, anyway. He wanted to tell Ian that he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he was gay and that people knew about it. He wanted to tell him how he felt about him. That he worried all the time that Gallagher would inevitably leave him one day and that Mickey would be lost and broken without him. He wanted to tell him these things, but he couldn't. He couldn't get his mouth to say what his brain was thinking. He tried and nothing happened. 

He took a deep breath, stared at the floor and said, “I'm sorry I can't give you what you want.”

“What is it you think I want?” Mickey could hear the frustration in Ian's voice without even looking at him.

“Some gay fairytale happy ending.”

“Right...” Ian barked out a laugh. “You know I don't need all that crap, right? I don't know why you think I want it but I don't. I don't need to hold hands or whatever. I don't need people to know our business. I just need someone who isn't gonna lie and pretend that they aren't in a relationship when they clearly are. I just need you to tell me how you really feel about me.”

This was it: the cathartic moment of their _relationship_ when all he needed to do was 'blurt out how he fucking felt'. Gallagher just didn't get it. That's not who Mickey was. He couldn't talk about feelings and shit. Maybe he should have gotten two potions from Batty Sheila: the one for Terry and another one to give himself some balls. Now Mickey was the one to laugh.

“What's so funny?”

“I don't even know how I'd begin to explain it, Firecrotch...” His laughter subsided. “Okay. Just... listen, okay?”

Ian nodded.

“I... I'm trying. This isn't easy...”

“What isn't?”

“What part of 'listen' means you get to talk?”

Ian closed his mouth and held his hands up in concession.

“My dad's leaving town. I didn't wanna get married but I'm gonna let her stay until the baby's born just to make sure it ain't mine. I'm not gonna be one of those assholes who abandons his kid, okay?”

Ian nodded again. “So why did you do it...? Why didn't you just wait to see if the baby was yours first?”

“Come on, don't be an idiot.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had to do it. If I didn't, my dad would come after both of us. I had to make him happy. That's what he wanted so I did it. I didn't think it would matter so much to you. It's just a fucking piece of paper. You've been with married guys before.”

“This was different.”

“Different how? What, because I don't buy you shit or take you places?”

“No,” Ian scoffed. “I told you none of that matters to me.”

“Then what made it different?”

“I don't know... I mean...” He huffed out a breath. “Well, I didn't exactly know you didn't want to marry her, did I...” Ian admitted.

Could the kid really have been that stupid?

“Wait a second. You mean you thought I was... what—marrying her to prove I'm straight? That I _love_ her or some shit? You are _such_ a fucking idiot, Gallagher,” he said, shoving Ian by his shoulder. Of course Ian shoved back. 

Mickey was going to miss this...

“You still didn't explain what's changed. Why is your dad leaving? What did you do?”

“We had a little chat. I told him I was gay. Now he's leaving. End of story.”

“How are you still alive?”

“Magic,” he said with a grin.

“Come on, Mick.”

“Oh, so I'm 'Mick' again now?”

“Seriously! Tell me!”

“I did tell you... It's your problem if you don't believe me...”

Ian looked at his watch. It was late. He probably had to go and pack or something. Mickey's heart sank. It was all ending.

“Will you tell me tomorrow?” Ian asked.

“Tomorrow?” Wasn't that going to be hard for him to do with Gallagher at wherever the fuck his basic training camp would be?

“Yeah...” Ian said, looking at Mickey, face turning red with a slow, creeping blush. “Tomorrow.”

Holy shit. _Tomorrow._ Mickey was so stunned that he couldn't control the grin that spread across his face.

**Author's Note:**

> well, I hope it wasn't too silly... I really tried to stick to the real facts whenever possible! and there was still a happy ending, so there's that... please be nice with the comments!


End file.
